


Get Back To Work

by mossy_eyes



Series: Back to Work (Grocery Store AU) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Don't Ask, Elias is chill, F/F, F/M, Grocery Store AU, Gurtrude bullies Vincent Yang, M/M, Magnus Market, Minor Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Minor Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Minor Sasha James/Tim Stoker, deal with it for the fic, im now aware british supermarkets dont have baggers, please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossy_eyes/pseuds/mossy_eyes
Summary: A TMA Grocery Store AU, in which the majority of the crew (and some minor characters) work in a store called "Magnus Basket". This is a JonMartin fic for the most part, I won't lie.
Relationships: Jonmartin - Relationship, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Back to Work (Grocery Store AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192955
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	1. Elias' Interviews are 100% Professional!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter! I'll try my best to update often. I hope you enjoy it! I promise it will pick up a bit.

Fired from yet another job. Of course! Jonathan Sims was infuriated with himself. Could he not hold a single job for more than a few months? Apparently not. Ever since he’d been fired from the historical archive- which he’d been at for 3 years, he hadn’t been able to hold a stable job. It was like a curse. He’d had quite a few different jobs since then, ranging from fast food to mail delivery. However, his flatmate, Tim, mentioned an opening for a job at his own place of employment, Magnus Market. Working in a grocery store really did not sound appealing to Jon, but he had bills to pay, considering he’d just left the mailing company- sitting in a truck gets very boring after some time.

  
After a few hours of careful consideration, Jon decided it best to apply. On the plus side, he’d be working with his best friend, who could also be a reference. His resume wouldn’t look great, but having someone already in the workplace would help, right? 

Within a few days, Jon had an interview with the store manager, Mr. Bouchard, who asked to be called by his first name, Elias. Over the two days in between, and the hours even leading up to the meeting, Jon was terrified. Yes, he’d been to quite a handful of interviews before then, but never a grocery store, and never with a man with such a fancy name. Tim assured him the man was nothing close to posh, and would probably reek of marijuana at the interview anyways, Jon would likely get the job. Jon didn’t fully believe him. He should have.

* * *

Jon woke up around 10 in the morning, heart racing from his dream. Elias had been looking over his application, tutting disapprovingly, before blacklisting Jon. He’d never get a job again. He’d have to become a stripper or- or something! He’d have to have yard sales every other weekend, maybe every! Jon ran a hand through long dark hair, exhaling a shaking sigh. He’d be fine. Tim knew Elias, and if Tim said that he was a stoner, he may or may not be. Tim liked to play tricks.

  
He pulled himself out of bed, a bit shaky, and still very exhausted, but trying his best. He went over to his dresser, and he paused. What do you wear to this kind of interview? Jon knew what you’d wear to an interview at McDonalds, or a thrift shoppe. He could ask Tim, but Tim always wore the same thing anyways: simple black jeans with a quiet hawaiian shirt. Jon decided it best to ask, and unplugged his phone from the charger, opening Tim’s contact.

_Tim, I have no idea what to wear and I am freaking out._   
Jon typed out, sending it quickly after. He was rather worried at how fast Tim replied.

_semi-formal? like, idk, a button up shirt and some slacks. elias wont care, jon, i promise u_

That sounded safe, Jon realized, and his shoulders felt a little lighter as he took out a light green button up and a pair of dark brown pants. Safe colors, safe clothing, safe interview. This would be fine. Everything would be just fine! 

After running a brush through it, Jon pulled his hair back into a low bun, blowing a few loose strands out of his face, and letting out a frustrated noise when they fell exactly where they’d been before. Jon sighed and went into the bathroom, getting out a few bobby pins and pinning back those loose strands. There, all better. While he was in the bathroom, Jon washed his face and brushed his teeth, even going so far as to put on just a smidge of cologne (strong scents irritated him and made it hard to breathe).

Jon glanced at himself in the mirror and scowled. Dark bags hung under his eyelids, scars riddled his face, and his facial hair was- well that was actually looking okay. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and left the bathroom, refusing to look at his reflection any longer. 

He looked over at his analog clock, eyes widening to see 30 minutes until his interview. It took almost 20 minutes just to get to Magnus Market, and 7 to warm up his shitty car. 

“Fuck!” he hissed, slipping into his winter coat, his glasses, and phone into his pocket, running out of his flat (almost forgetting his house keys), slamming the door shut behind him. He almost slipped on ice as he ran to his car and climbed in.

Luckily for Jon, he shopped at Magnus Market rather often, and knew the way there. He had calmed down mostly by the time he arrived, though he owed that mostly to the dark classical music that was almost at an uncomfortably loud volume. He arrived with five minutes to spare, and let out a sigh of relief as he cut the engine and got out, locking it as he made his way into the building.

Tim was waiting for him, which was weird.

“Jon! You made it! Thought you were going to be late,” Tim welcomed, accompanied by a toothy grin.

“Yes I thought I was going to be late too,” Jon looked down at his attire, “Think this will be okay?” he asked his friend, receiving a raised brow in response.

“I told you not to worry about it, J. You’ll be fine. Here, I’ll even bring you to his office. Be warned, it’ll probably smell like weed.” Tim’s tone was nonchalant, but he was excited for Jon, and Jon was aware of it.

“You keep saying that, Tim.”

“And I keep meaning it.” 

And Tim led him to Mr. Bouchard’s office.

Elias Bouchard was not nearly as intimidating as his name was. He stood at 5’6”, 5’7” if whoever’s judging is being gracious. His hair would have been messier if it hadn’t been pulled back into a low ponytail. His eyes were reddened behind large frames, and as Tim had warned, he smelled of pot. He'd been sitting on the floor when Jon entered the room, barely glancing up upon the arrival of another human body. This man was _out of it._

“Jonathan Sims, is it?” Elias spoke, reaching out a hand to shake. The man’s voice wasn’t quite high nor low, and it was loose.

“Yes- er- Call me Jon, please.” Jon clasped a clammy hand and shook it, quickly letting go.

“Alright, you can call me Elias. Mr. Bouchard is far too formal for me,” he paused. “Take a seat, if you will.” 

Jon glanced around for a chair and found none. He voiced this and Elias grinned again.

“Simple test, you may remain standing. So, Jon, do you want this job?” 

Jon gave a simple nod, voicing a small, “Yes.” Elias nodded.

“Have you ever worked as a cashier before?” the small man asked.

Again, a simple nod but a slightly less small, “Yes.”

“You’ve got it. Would you be able to stay after this to begin training?”

Jon blinked. He got the job? Just like that? Good lord, this guy must be high off his arse. Jon almost laughed in shock.

“Oh- er, yes, I believe I can. Do I need a uniform or anything?” he asked, caught a bit off guard.

“Do you see what I am wearing, Jon?” Elias asked, drawing attention to his outfit. It was the same as Jon’s, but a different color scheme.

“So just this?” Jon’s eyebrows creased.

“Well- technically cashiers wear red, but green will do for today. I do expect red pants tomorrow though.” Elias smiled. “You’re free to go, Mr. Sims. Welcome to the team.”

* * *

Jon grinned as he walked out of that office, partially because of the fresh air he’d just received, but also because he’d gotten the job! With two questions, he got the job  _ on the spot _ . That never happened at any place ever, though, Elias  _ was _ high, maybe that had something to do with it.

“So, how’d it go?” Tim inquired as soon as he saw Jon again.

“It went great! I’m your coworker now, I suppose.” Jon was ecstatic, and Tim now reflected that.

“You’re fucking with me! Seriously?” 

“Tim I’m dead serious, I’m a cashier and I- well I think I’m supposed to be starting now. Training I- I mean, though I’m not sure who’s training me.” Jon’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down in thought.

“Jon, I hate to tell you, but Gertrude- the assistant manager, is probably the one to train you. Don’t tell her I said this but-”

“Don’t tell me you said what?” a new voice spoke, belonging to a middle-aged woman with greying hair.

“Oh hey, Ms. Robinson. I was just sharing some workplace gossip to your trainee,” Tim lied straight through his teeth. Jon admired and feared how skillful Tim was at lying in equal measure.

Ms. Robinson, who Jon figured to be Gertrude, scowled, let out a small grunt, and turned to Jon.

“Name?” she requested- no, demanded.

“Jonathan Sims.” Jon replied quickly, not daring to give his nickname.

Gertrude studied him for a moment, looking him up and down with pale, judgmental eyes, before extending her hand.

“Gertrude Robinson,” She smiled as Jon shook her hand, though despite the warmth that showed on her lips, it managed to make Jon shiver. Then she turned to Tim and scowled cooly. “Get back to work, Stoker. You’re lucky I don’t get your arse fired.” she hissed. 

“Got it, Boss!” Tim said in a hurry, scurrying off to the produce section. 

Gertrude turned back to Jon, scowl gone. Jon realized she wasn’t mean, but she was in charge, and made sure to make that clear. 

“Now, your training,” she began walking to the third register. “It shouldn’t be too difficult if you aren’t illiterate. You’ll be working whatever register needs it, but mostly this here number three. The good news is it’s pretty unpopular. No one likes the number three, I suppose. The bad news is that you’ll be working with Vincent Yang, an absolute buffoon.”

“What the hell? I’m right here, Gertrude.” the person Jon now identified to be Vincent complained.

“Watch your mouth, young man,” Gertrude glared, and he went silent. “Anyways, Jonathan, you’ll have your own pincode to log in for your shift, as well as your own till.”  Gertrude went on to explain the rest of Jon’s job, which he made sure to pay attention to. She explained where things were, how Vincent knew next to nothing and she didn’t know how he wasn’t fired, and other such things. 

Jon hoped to the cloudy sky that he’d remember all of this. Everything was distracting him while she was talking. Her voice bored him, but he needed to pay attention to this. Eventually she finished up, and gave Jon a list of things he needed, which he was extremely grateful for. He was about to ask about his hours and how long he’d be there when Gertrude told him.

“You’ll only be here until 1:00 today. We’ll discuss your hours with Elias before you leave.” she gave a nod and left.

That’s when Jon noticed the bagger on number 4 staring at him, a forgotten pile of groceries growing. Jon didn’t like to be stared at, as it caused a lot of anxiety. He gave a small, cautious wave to them, which seemingly snapped them out of their trance. Jon’s sight was nowhere near great, but the bagger looked redder than they had a few seconds prior as they went back to work in a rush.

An idiot for a bagger, and a bagger staring at him.

This’ll be fun, Jon thought, feeling rather resentful towards this job already.


	2. Martin Won't Stop Staring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jon's first official day on the job, and Martin can't stop staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so,, I am fully aware that most UK supermarkets do not have baggers, but for the purpose of the story, Magnus Basket does. I'm planning on giving characters hints of their podcast selves (IE: Michael having wonky mental health).

_ I usually have a way with words, but fucking hell okay. So hear me out. I was working at my register as usual, bagging up groceries, when this guy- and Christ, this guy- gets on register 3, the one right next to mine. He’s definitely new. He’s got this beautiful dark hair with greying streaks, and I think his eyes were bright green. Like- EMERALD green. Of course- maybe they were blue- I need to get new glasses. He had darker skin with scars littering his face. Again, I think, I can’t see well. _

_ The only problem with this- well there’s a few. First of all, he distracted me from bagging, and when I looked back, I had a pile of groceries and an angry coworker. Secondly, he LOOKED BACK AT ME. What the hell! That’s not fair. I suppose it was good, though, because I snapped out of my trance and got back to bagging. My face has never felt so hot. I could still see him looking at me. Christ I hope he’s in every dream I have. Aside from nightmares, obviously. Alright, I’m going to bed. _

Martin put down his pen and journal, sighing longingly, and lied down on his back. He stared up at his ceiling, a smile settling on his face as he took off his glasses, attempting to set them on his nightstand, but they fell (he couldn’t see) onto the floor. Martin deadpanned.

“Oh for crying out loud- you know what? Screw that, I’m knackered. I’m going to sleep.” he grumbled, putting on some quiet music and passing out.

* * *

Jon woke up the next morning feeling well rested for the first time in quite a while. He smiled a bit to no one in particular, pulling himself out of bed to get ready for the day. He could hear Tim already moving around in the kitchen, and decided to go investigate, only to find Tim cooking. It smelled lovely.

“Gooood morning, my new coworker. I’m making some breakfast, would you like any? It’s scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.” Tim greeted, glancing over at Jon before looking back to his eggs and bacon.

“That sounds quite good actually, yeah. Thanks, Tim.” Jon grinned, glancing down and realizing he was only in a t-shirt and boxers. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, though it felt odd, considering Tim was fully made up, so Jon retreated to his room to get dressed for work. 

What color pants had Elias said? Blue right? No, that didn’t sound right. Yellow? Jon hoped not, he didn’t own any yellow pants, let alone any clothing.

“Tim? What color pants am I supposed to wear again?” Jon called out, though it didn’t seem Tim heard him. Jon sighed and racked his memory for the information. Could it have been orange? No.. no- red! That was it, Jon was certain.

He was shocked to find he actually owned any red pants. They must have been from his red phase, and it seemed he hadn’t donated quite everything. They were a bit big in the legs however, which he remembered as he slipped them on. He’d have to cuff them, the way Tim cuffed his own pants.  _ Bi disaster,  _ Jon thought with a small chuckle.

He and Tim had dated once, which was the reason they were flatmates to begin with. The relationship had never felt like much beyond friendship, though. The only thing that gave it away as a relationship was the physical affection. In the end, it didn’t work out. They just weren’t quite each other’s types, and decided to comfortably go back to just being friends. Friends move in as roommates anyways. 

Jon was now fully dressed, complete with a black and grey argyle vest. He didn’t quite feel like putting his hair in a bun today, but knew full well how it got in the way when left down. Braiding took quite a while, but he had a bit of time. 

“Food’s done!” Tim’s voice echoed into the room. Despite their lack of a romantic relationship, Jon still found his heart warmed that Tim had thought of him. Bromance.

“I’ll be out in a moment, Tim!” Jon replied, grabbing a hair tie from his night stand and beginning (and struggling) to braid his hair. Then he thought about the bagger on 4. Would this cause more staring? Jon brushed off the thought and finished up his hair before joining Tim in the kitchen.

“Hey, have you seen my glasses,” Jon asked, vision blurry as he looked around. Tim sniggered. “What? I need them!” Jon retorted defensively.

“Jon. They are literally on your head,” Tim pointed out with a dumb grin. Jon groaned as he reached on top of his head, finding that yes, his glasses were actually on his head. “Distracted much this morning?” Tim teased as he set two plates on the table, a tea for Jon and a coffee for himself.

“Yeah, a bit.” Jon huffed in amusement, taking a sip of his tea. It wasn’t bad, but Tim really was not good at making tea, being a coffee person.

“How’s my shit tea?”

“It’s shit, thanks,” Jon teased affectionately, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“So does that mean the cup is arse? You’d be drinking arse.” Jon grimaced at the very thought, putting down the cup.

“Well thanks, that’s absolutely revolting and I’m not drinking that anymore. I’d rather get  _ Starbucks  _ coffee, for fucks sake, and you know my opinion of coffee.” Jon glared at Tim, who, in return, put his hands up in surrender, now beginning on his food. Jon shook his head and began eating as well.

After a few minutes, Tim spoke again. “Whose car are we taking? We could carpool,” 

Jon hadn’t thought about that, though the answer was easy: “Your car. Mine is about to break down on the side of the road.” 

“Sounds good, Sims.” Tim finished his food and got up, bringing his dish to the sink to wash it. Jon wasn’t very hungry after Tim’s comment on his tea.

“You know, I  _ was _ hungry, then you just had to go and say that about the tea,” Jon sighed. “Do you want my leftovers?” he offered, glancing down at his half-full plate. Tim looked over, quiet for a moment, considering.

“Sure, why not? I’ll finish up washing this and then steal your food,” Tim smiled, putting his dish in the drying rack (the washer was still broken, and they couldn’t afford to get it fixed or replace it). 

Jon sat quietly at the table, out of words to say or topics to discuss. He was never much for small talk, it never made any sense. Small talk, to Jon, just felt like forced noise where there should be a comfortable silence, though, if you asked, Jon would not describe his current state as comfortable by any means.

The vocal silence stretched for an uncomfortable interval of time, until Tim had grabbed Jon’s plate and began eating. Of course this was when a discussion topic finally came to mind.

“How’s working at Magnus Basket anyways,” Jon had asked. Tim was about to answer when Jon cut him off. “Finish chewing, please. I don’t feel like seeing your food.” Tim nodded in response with a grin, and finished his mouthful.

“Okay, Mum, I’ve finished! May I speak now,” Tim teased, earning an eye roll before he continued. “It’s actually pretty cool, considering I work with the prettiest woman ever and Elias is always higher than the clouds. The only things that ever bug me are snarky customers and Ms. Robinson.” 

“How do you deal with snarky customers when you’re working produce?” Jon asked, genuinely confused.

“I think you fail to notice how often produce workers are asked the location of things, when something will be back in stock- such and such. Annoying shit.” Tim grumbled. Now that he mentioned it, Jon thought he remembered Tim complaining about this kind of thing just a few weeks ago.

“Oh.” 

And the silence had returned, though not for long this time. Tim glanced at his watch a moment later, and his eyes widened. 

“Shit! J, we gotta skedaddle or we’re going to be late.” he hissed, nearly dropping the plate into the sink (Jon was thankful in that moment for the shatter-proof plates he’d insisted on them getting for the flat). Tim snatched the keys off of the wall at the same time as slipping into his coat. Jon followed in suit, and they rushed out to the car. This time, Jon  _ did _ fall, and it hurt quite a lot, but he still managed to climb into the car quick enough.

The duo rushed into the building as quick as possible, Jon following blindly after Tim to the back room to clock in. Only then did Jon realize that clocking in for him was different than clocking in for Tim. He cursed.

“Remind me to grab my coat from back here, alright?” and he was gone to the front of the store, speed walking in hopes of getting there sooner. What register was he on again? Two.. Three! Three. By the time his thought finished, he was standing at three and clocking in, putting in the pin that was on his sticky note (JS0366) and flipping his number light on. 

Thankfully, it was only around 8, and the store had yet to be busy. However, this had its downsides. For example, the big guy on 4 was able to stare at Jon again. Jon had the urge to stare back, just to scare him, but his anxiety said no. 

“Martin, you’re doing it again,” Jon did not recognize the soft voice that spoke, but it came from the cashier on number 5. He was an uncomfortably tall (Jon thought anyone over 6 feet was uncomfortably tall) man with blond curls pulled back into a ponytail. His features were sharp, but somehow managed to still seem soft- maybe it was the round glasses? 

“What- No I’m not. I’m staring into space. That’s all. Jus’ staring into space.” Martin’s voice stammered. Jon glanced over to see him flushed.

“Yeah, believable.” the tall man spoke, his tone sarcastic.

“Okay- this is bullying. Gerry come get your man, he’s bullying me.” Martin huffed to the bagger at register 5, an average height goth man. He only looked to be around 19, maybe 20.

“ I am not in any way in control of Michael, I’m sorry, Mart.” the man Jon now knew to be Gerry spoke. Martin groaned in response, and Michael laughed. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad? There certainly seemed to be good company- aside from Vincent Yang, who was silent, but the irritability still flowed off of him in uncomfortable spurts.

Michael began whispering to Martin, but Jon couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Whatever the topic, whatever the words, Martin’s face went red, and he shoved Michael gently.

“There’s a customer, Shelley!” Jon heard him hiss, before the topic was dropped.

Speaking of customers, Jon had his first.

“Is this register open?” they asked, a shake to their words.

“Oh- er! Yes! Yes it is- sorry. Come right up.”

* * *

Jon’s first break finally arrived. As it turned out, he had it with Tim. That was a relief. Jon had been worried he’d be stuck on a break without a friendly face, although his coworkers all seemed to be friendly so far (aside from Vincent).

“So, how’s your first day so far?” Tim asked, elbowing Jon.

“Ow! It’s been fine, asshole.” Jon rubbed his shoulder, glaring at his flatmate.

“Martin’s been staring, I hear,” 

“Yeah, Michael’s been teasing him about it.” Jon laughed quietly.

“Shelley?” Tim asked.

“Yeah? Is there another Michael here?” 

“Hm. Used to be, but he went by Mike. Went missing,” Tim shrugged. “Didn’t know him well, though.” Jon was a little surprised. Workplace drama didn’t usually consist of missing people, but it happens. 

“How long is our break again?” Jon asked, pulling out his phone.

“Er- I believe it’s around an hour long? Why?” 

“I’m a bit hungry, we could go out and get something? If- If you want to.” Jon suggested.

“Oh! Can Sasha come? We were planning on getting something.” Tim asked. He figured Jon might be reluctant, and he was right.

“I- I suppose, yes. You two usually go for lunch dates, right? I don’t want to intrude or anything.” Jon brushed a stray hair out of his face, attempting to put it back in the pin.

“No no! You’re good- they aren’t- they aren’t dates. I wish they were, but Sasha refuses.” Tim laughs, rubbing the back of his head.

“We were planning on getting some McDonalds,” Jon grimaced. He wasn’t the biggest fan of McDonalds. “Don’t give me that look, you wanted to get food. You know the budget.” Tim raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah yeah, very well.  _ McDonald’s  _ it is.” Jon huffed.

* * *

“So, Jon! How’s the job treating you so far?” Sasha asked, sitting across the table from him. 

“It’s been- well. It’s been a job. I don’t believe I’ve had enough time to judge how it’s been to me specifically yet,” Jon responded, looking down at his “meal”. It did not look very appetizing. Sasha laughed, and Tim followed.

“That’s understandable! Not everyone processes their emotions towards things quickly.” Sasha smiled. As strange as Jon’s interactions with her had been within just the last 15 minutes, she seemed nice.

Jon  _ did  _ eventually manage to finish his food- not without a lot of internal complaining, and the trio of workers left, climbing back into Sasha’s car (“It’s better than mine,” Tim had said) and heading back to work. Two hours left to go.

* * *

Jon made his way back to his register as two workers he did not know the names of left. Vincent was of course, nowhere to be seen. Jon’s eyes darted around in search of his coworker. He couldn’t work the register and bag. He didn’t know how to bag. 

“Hey! Jon, right? Are you looking for Vince?” Jon nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes snapping to the owner of the voice. It was Michael from register 4.

“Good lord-- Yes- do you happen to know where he is?” Jon replied, trying his best to pretend he had not been scared shitless.

“He’s always late. Sorry you got stuck with him. I’m Michael,” 

“Jonathan- er- Jon. What should I do..? Just wait?” Jon asked, looking around again as if he’d suddenly see the man (he didn’t).

“Talk to Ms. Robinson? I dunno. I barely remember who worked there prior to you.. Might’ve been Mikaele..” Michael simply shrugged, when Martin returned to his post.

“Oh hey Michael-- a-and you. I’m sorry I don’t believe I ever- er- Ever caught your name?” Martin stammered, looking at (and somehow not looking at) Jon.

“Jon,” he nodded.

“I’m Martin. Is Vincent still not here? That’s the conversation topic, right?” two heads nodded in reply.

“Ugh. I can see why Gertrude hates him so much. Why doesn’t she just fire him?” Martin groaned, and Jon got the feeling most workers here sided with Gertrude on their disliking of Vincent.

“That is a brilliant question, Martin! I don’t think Elias will let her for whatever reason.” Michael sighed, flicking on register 4’s lamp. 

“Where is Gertrude, by the way, so I can go ask?” Jon asked, nervous.

“Oh- I wouldn’t worry too much. He’ll be here in a few seconds.” and just like that, the young Vincent Yang appeared, stepping into his spot with an unhappy expression, and Jon flicked on register 3’s lamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, there it is! Chapter two! It felt a little funky when writing it, so if it does read strange, let me know. This is completely un-beta-ed, so it may be. Also,, my teacher is reading this?? She genuinely is that desperate to read my writing,, so,,, sorry Ms. Sliney.

**Author's Note:**

> End note: I'm american and have no clue how grocery stores work in the UK. If you know, feel free to correct stuff and cringe at my poor excuse for writing British characters, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
